


all you want is someone to whom you can cling

by likeanchors



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, Homesickness, M/M, allusions to anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeanchors/pseuds/likeanchors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cuddles on tour (or; everyone loves Louis). That's it. Louis is a cuddlebug fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all you want is someone to whom you can cling

**Author's Note:**

> OT5ish cuddle fic (with a side of Harry/Louis but I hesitate to add the relationship tag) for Alex on the occasion of her 19th Birthday. I love you a ridiculous amount.

Niall was curled up into the corner of the couch watching dubbed reruns of The Jetsons, an empty cereal bowl in one hand, spoon hanging from the corner of his mouth, remote in the other hand. When Louis pads out of the bedroom he’s all puffy, sleep-filled eyes and mussed hair, bare feet slapping against the floorboards, too long pyjama bottoms hiding all but his toes. He anticipates the familiar weight of Louis and shifts so that the other boy can fit himself between the back of the sofa and his side. Curled fists are working furiously at Louis’ eyes; a too large yawn overtaking his body and pressing him deeper into Niall’s side. 

“Can’t hear.” Is all Louis mumbles, the sharp point of his chin working into the sensitive muscle of Niall’s chest. Doing as he’s bid, Niall turns the volume up a little more, popping the bowl onto the floor and dropping the remote into his lap before wrapping his arm around the sleepy boy curled around his body. They stay like that through an entire episode of The Smurfs, Niall’s quiet laughter jostling Louis from time to time. Louis seems to become more coherent just as the dastardly Gargamel is outwitted -- again -- by The Smurfs. His head popping off of Niall’s shoulder, blue eyes clear of their former sleepy befuddlement. 

“Tea?” Louis asks, groaning as he stretches out beside Niall, his knees and ankles popping and cracking. Grimacing, Niall nods and let’s out a pained breath when Louis’ hand slips against his waist as he climbs over him, momentarily winding him. Flipping through the channels trying to find something for them to watch now that they’re both awake, Niall settles for one of the local channels.

When Louis reappears a few minutes later, two steaming mugs in hand, Niall’s riveted to the Japanese game show he doesn’t understand. He accepts the mug from Louis, fingers curling around the sides because Lou has a firm hold of the handle, he hisses out a curse when the heat burns his fingertips. He waits until Louis’ settled on the couch before he takes a sip and frowns at the television. Niall’s not entirely sure what they’re watching and when he turns his head to see if Louis wants to watch something else, Louis’ curled into the other corner, spectacles on and mug in hand, chuckling at the antics of the contestants. Smiling to himself more than anything, Niall stretches his foot out until he pokes Louis’ thigh with his toe, kicking at the other boy when he tickles the sole of his foot with a curled finger. 

  
Five minutes later a thoroughly disheveled and angry Zayn finds them embroiled in a tickle fight; their shouts and shrieks having woken him. Louis lobs a cushion at Zayn's head when he commands they, “Shut the bloody hell up or I'll smother you both in your sleep”. Through a fit of giggles, Louis and Niall collapse back onto the couch a happy tangle of arms and legs.

 

 

***

They’re in the back of the tour bus somewhere between Kansas City and Houston when Liam finds himself with lapful of boy. Louis curls up on himself, the bony heel of his foot digging painfully into Liam’s thigh, his knee knocking against Liam’s shoulder. Wrapping his arms around the unusually quiet lump of boy, Liam makes a quiet sound and nuzzles his face into the back of Louis’ head.

They’ve spent the last two-and-a-half months skirting the highways and byways of Europe and North America, flittering in and out of cities across the world. Louis’ tolerance for the bullshit that accompanies touring has waned and he spends most of his time lapsing in and out of morose silences and energetic bouts of mischievousness. More often than not he’s glued to his phone; the ping of WhatsApp messages or email notifications constant or not at all.

Murmuring quiet nonsense against Louis’ brow, Liam runs his hands up and down the quivering muscles of Louis’ back until slowly Louis relaxes, his breathing becoming soft and natural rather than laboured. He can feel Louis’ soft whumping breaths against his collarbone, Louis’ fists opening and closing against his stomach.

“I hate touring,” Louis whispers after long minutes have passed. Liam smiles indulgently against Louis’ temple because he knows it’s not true; Louis loves being out and about, meeting and interacting with their fans. What Louis hates is being away from his family. He hates being an outsider who only catches glimpses of his loved ones by way of punctuated emails and short text messages.

Holding him tighter, Liam makes a soft sound that could be an agreement but is most likely just for Louis’ sake. 

 

 

***

 

It feels like they’ve been in interviews for days rather than just a few hours. Already the repetitiveness of the banal questions are starting to grate on already fraying nerves. From where he is Zayn can see that Niall and Harry’s attentions have wandered and that Liam, bless his heart, is endearing in his attempts at trying to draw responses out of all of them. Zayn’s busy playing up his mysterious aloofness out of sheer pigheadedness. He could honestly care less about the interviewers building frustrations with them. After all, it serves her right for asking the same questions every other reporter asks; are you single? Are you really as close as you seem? Etcetera, et al, and all that bollocks. Zayn snorts and drops his forehead into his palm, he’s half tempted to tell her that he pounds Liam into the mattress every night but that would cause a whole mess of trouble whether it’s true or not. 

Louis’ a cause for concern though. He’s been entirely too quiet the entirety of this interview and  the one before it, not even Harry’s obnoxious behaviour has managed to pull him from his reveries. Placing one hand over Louis’ knee, Zayn notices that Louis’ breathing is a bit too heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his flimsy t-shirt. Digging his thumb into the ticklish underside of Louis’ knee, Zayn’s eyes widen when Louis flinches away from him, wild eyes flicking up to meet Zayn’s, half full of what looks like accusation and reproach.

Part of Zayn thinks he should stop the interview and make sure that Louis is actually okay. Another part of Zayn knows just how much Lou would hate that. That bringing attention to whatever this is that’s affecting his friend would just make matters worse rather than better. Carefully Zayn rubs slow circles on Louis’ knee, hoping that whatever is bugging him stays at bay a few more minutes. 

After what feels like an age, the interview ends rather awkwardly with strained smiles and stilted words. They have half an hour until the next interview; Niall and Liam have already disappeared towards the bathroom and Harry’s got his phone pressed to his ear as he taps out a slow beat on his knees. As soon as the call connects Harry’s on his feet and out the door without so much as a backwards glance. Beside him Louis’ as taut as a bowstring. Zayn’s never seen him so uncharacteristically not himself; this boy who looks like an echo of Louis, nothing about him the friend that Zayn loves and adores.

Reluctantly Zayn loosens his hold Louis, watching helplessly as Louis collapses in on  himself. There are plenty of people milling about on phones or laptops or iPads; wads of paperwork being shifted from hand to hand but no one seems to notice the boy who’s falling apart in front of them. Standing, Zayn positions himself behind Louis on the couch and uses his body as a shield. He covers Louis’ shaking body, pressing his chest to Louis’ back, wrapping his arms tight around Louis as if he’s a human vice intent on keeping Louis from falling to pieces. Zayn sits through long minutes of Louis’ ragged breathing and shallow hiccoughs, quietly whispering, “It's okay, you’re okay,” like a mantra. It feels like hours pass until Louis slowly relaxes. The muscles in his shoulders, then down his back and sides, his arms and thighs slowly uncoiling until he’s as pliant as a rag doll under Zayn’s careful hands. 

Carefully, so as not to spook him, Zayn turns Louis in his arms, pulling him into his chest until Louis’ nestled under his chin in the most comforting cuddle Zayn imagines he’s ever given.

“You okay?” Zayn asks slowly, raising one eyebrow at the intern who’s watching, agog. 

Louis makes to nod, his chin brushing against Zayn’s sternum before he changes his mind and shakes his head, the soft hairs of his head tickling the underside of Zayn’s chin and catching on the stubble.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Louis shakes his head again before lifting his head, red-rimmed blue eyes painfully sad as they meet Zayn’s eyes. “No,” Louis rasps. “Just want this fuckin’ day over with.”

Smoothing one hand over Louis’ head, Zayn gives him a tight smile. They’re almost done. Only four more of these innocuous and vapid interviews to get through. He doesn’t think reminding Louis of that will help so he makes a soft sound and tugs Louis back down into a tight cuddle.

Liam is the first to come back; a deep frown etched into his handsome forehead as he presses steaming cups of tea into both of their hands. Niall comes bearing a bag of Haribo and Harry a packet of chocolate HobNobs. They spend the last five minutes of their allotted break in an odd tangle of limbs; Niall spread over them, his bony arse bracketed between Louis’ knees, Harry under Louis’ ankles, Liam half on Harry’s lap and half on the arm of the sofa. One of their handlers shoots them a disapproving look that they all flip off before going back to seeing how many sweets they can stuff into Niall’s mouth before he chokes. (The answer is 42.)

 

 

***

Harry has two mugs balanced expertly between his long, thin fingers and a much practiced hip-bump against the door allows him to carefully back himself into the bedroom without waking Louis. Slipping the mugs onto the bedside table without spilling a drop, Harry can’t help but grin down at the sleeping boy in his bed. Easing himself back under the covers, Harry carefully wraps one large hand around Louis’ waist before leaning down and pressing his lips to the soft skin behind Louis’ ear.

“Wake up,” Harry whispers, his heart melting when Louis’ face scrunches up, his nose wrinkling adorably. Through a yawn, Louis mumbles something endearingly incoherent and burrows deeper into his pillows and the blankets. Chuckling softly, Harry trails soft kisses along the line of Louis’ jaw, “C’mon sleepy head.”

With practiced ease Harry deflects Louis’ flying arm, using the wayward limb to his advantage, gently easing Louis over until he’s curled against Harry’s chest. Harry cards his fingers through Louis’ hair, scritching softly at Lou’s scalp until a sleepy smile stretches Louis’ lips and his hand slips across Harry’s abdomen, fingernails lightly grazing a stretch of exposed skin. 

Reaching behind him and guiding the mug into Louis’ hand, Harry noses at the top of Louis’ head, pressing a kiss to the crown. “Tea, love,” Harry murmurs, tightening his arm around Louis’ shoulders when he tries to wriggle away. “We’ve only got a couple of hours until soundcheck.”

There’s a soft murmur of discontent before Louis lifts his head and blinks sleepily up at Harry. A soft, satisfied sigh falls from Harry’s lips, his thumb brushing lightly across Louis’ cheek. A drowsy smile lights up Louis’ face and Harry grins before taking a giant slurp from his own mug of tea. Louis’ nose wrinkles again, his lightly curled fist thwacking dully against Harry’s chest. “Ow,” Harry manages around a bubble of laughter. Smiling, Louis cuddles deeper into Harry’s side and lightly pinches at Harry’s thigh.

“Telly, dork,” Louis commands, his voice thick and scratchy with sleep. 

An hour later they’re still curled together under the blankets watching Tom and Jerry when Liam calls them to say soundcheck’s been pushed back another hour. Clutching Louis tighter, Harry can barely contain the grin as he smiles into Louis’ hair. A long afternoon cuddling in bed with his best boy, nothing could ever be better.


End file.
